My Alpha Refused My Dying Rejection

No.2 Aline POV The silence stretched, taut and suffocating, like a rubber band ready to snap back and draw blood. Kaden's fingers were still digging into my shoulders, his Alpha aura a heavy, physical weight that made the air thin. I didn't... I choked out, my voice barely a whisper against the crushing pressure of his command. "I didn't kill him, Kaden. I tried to tell you. I tried to reach you." His lip curled, a snarl revealing lethal canines. "Lies." I screamed for you! I cried, the desperation clawing its way out of my throat. Tears finally spilled, hot and stinging. "When the pain started, when I felt his heartbeat slowing... I screamed through the link until my mind bled. I begged you to come home." Kaden released me abruptly, as if my skin had burned him. I stumbled back, hitting the cold stone wall. He took a step closer, invading my personal space, his scent of rain and ozone now tainted with the bitter tang of disgust. He leaned down, his voice a low, dangerous rumble near my ear. My mind is silent, Aline. There was no call. No scream. Just the quiet of a mate who didn't care enough to reach out. He pulled back, his eyes cold shards of ice. "You are a liar. And a murderer." Check my phone! I fumbled with the pocket of my hospital gown, my hands shaking so violently I nearly dropped the device. "I called your cell. I messaged Beta Lucas. I—" He swatted the phone from my hand. It skittered across the floor, the screen cracking against the stone. Technology fails, he scoffed, crushing the device under his boot. "The Mind-Link does not. Unless you never used it." I stared at the broken phone, feeling the last flicker of hope die in my chest. He wouldn't believe me. He couldn't conceive that his precious bond, or perhaps his precious Cori, had blocked me. As if summoned by my thought, a soft, pained gasp echoed in the hallway. Kaden... Cori swayed, her hand fluttering to her forehead. "I feel so dizzy. The stress of all this... thinking about the poor pup..." The transformation in Kaden was instantaneous. The monster looming over me vanished, replaced by a worried protector. He spun around, catching Cori before she could fall. I've got you, he murmured, his voice dripping with a tenderness that sliced through me deeper than any blade. He scooped her up into his arms, holding her against his chest as if she were made of fragile glass. He didn't look back at me. Not once. He strode down the hallway, carrying the woman who was mocking me with her hidden smirk, leaving me alone in the dim corridor. The gathered pack members stared—some with pity, most with the scorn reserved for a failed mate. I was the Alpha's mistake. She was his treasure. An hour later, I was back in my room in the servants' quarters. It was a closet, really—damp, drafty, and smelling of mildew. I curled up on the thin mattress, clutching my stomach. The physical pain of the procedure was fading, but a new agony was taking its place. It started in my chest, a tearing sensation, as if invisible hooks were ripping my soul apart. My inner wolf, already weak from years of neglect, let out a final, gurgling howl before falling silent. I convulsed, rolling off the bed onto the icy flagstones. A violent cough racked my body, and I tasted copper. Hot liquid spewed from my lips, splattering onto the grey floor. Blood. Bright, oxygenated blood. The necrosis. It was spreading faster than Martha had predicted. The bond wasn't just broken; it was rotting inside me. The door banged open. I tried to wipe my mouth, to hide the weakness, but my limbs refused to obey. Kaden stood in the doorway, filling the small space with his imposing frame. He looked at the blood on the floor, then at me. I waited for a flicker of concern. A moment of hesitation. Anything. Instead, a cruel, humorless smile touched his lips. Pathetic, he spat. He walked into the room, his boots stopping inches from my face. "You chose to destroy our pup because you were jealous. And now? Now you play the victim to soothe your guilt?" I looked up at him through a haze of pain. He truly believed it. He thought this—my dying body, my shattered soul—was a performance. Get up, he commanded, his voice devoid of humanity. "Stop the theatrics. I'm here to tell you the new rules of your existence, not to watch you wallow in your own mess." I lay there, the metallic taste of blood heavy on my tongue, realizing with terrifying clarity that the man standing above me wasn't just a bad mate. He was my executioner.